By her third OBGYN appointment, Willow had settled into a version of life that felt almost steady. Her apartment smelled like eucalyptus and clean laundry. Her new job felt manageable. Tiana kept her supplied with chamomile and muffins. Her belly had begun to curve in a way that made everything real.
She hadn't heard anything from the life she abandoned.
Then, two days before the appointment, Victor knocked on her door.
When she opened it, she found him standing there—coat sharp, hair perfectly in place, exhaustion hidden behind ice-blue eyes that missed nothing.
"Victor?" she breathed. "What are you doing here, aren't you supposed to come tomorrow?"
"I had a gap in my schedule," he said, stepping inside. "Your appointment is tomorrow. You're not going alone."
"I go alone everywhere," she protested. "Work. Groceries—"
"Those aren't medical facilities," he said calmly. "Also, you faint when stressed. Twice, actually."
"That was one time."
